The Man from Jericho Part 10

CHAPTER VII

When Devil Marston awoke that morning he was conscious of a vague feeling of satisfaction. As his brain grew more and more active he smiled broadly, showing his wolfish teeth, and threw himself from his bed. Good news would await him that morning. By covert watching he had seen where The Prince was to be stabled, and late the night before had gone in person to tell Dan Travers just how to go about the work. It was ridiculously easy--to make way with the colt--and ere this the thing had been done, for Travers had seemed eager for the undertaking. As he set about dressing Marston reviewed it all mentally; the success of his hireling's venture, the dismay and consternation of the Dudleys, the total lack of proof as to who committed the crime. But the consciousness that those whom he hated would know positively who was back of the crime was the sweetest thought of all. And Travers was coming this morning to make his report; this had been Marston's last order. He might arrive at any moment, and Marston wanted his breakfast before listening to good news, for it would sound better upon a full stomach. He opened a door and rudely bawled an order into vacancy, but a fear-filled negro's voice answered him in a.s.suring words. His rule was one of absolute terror. His servants were no more to him than so many dogs, and they obeyed him as such. When he sat down to his meal a few minutes later an ill-favoured negro youth waited upon him, and a slatternly wench appeared at times from the kitchen, bringing new dishes to the door. Marston ate repulsively, as befitted his birth and character, and took an intense delight in his meal, which was coa.r.s.e and poorly prepared. Throughout it all he listened repeatedly for his expected caller, and when he rose from the table there was not the slightest suspicion in his mind that anything had gone wrong. He would go to the stable and have a look at his favourite racers. The last barrier which stood in the way of their supremacy had been removed, and he would gloat over them with increased pleasure now. He issued some harsh orders for directing his caller when he should arrive, and left the house with quick strides.

As he walked around and about the n.o.ble animals which were his greatest pride his heart swelled with exultation. But when he came out of a stall presently and saw the man for whom he had been waiting standing before him, a swift alarm seized him and made his dark face pale. For a moment they stood staring into each other's eyes, one with mounting anger, the other with sullen pa.s.siveness. Then Marston strode forward and thrust his darkening visage close to Travers' face.

"Didn't you do it, you sneak?" he demanded, his upper lip curling back, showing his fangs. "Don't you dare to tell me you have failed me!"

Travers' accustomed nervousness had vanished. He was perfectly calm as he stood within arm's length of the infuriated Marston.

"I'm the man to make a fuss," he answered, "for you steered me into a hole which nearly cost me my life. I was discovered, captured, and had to tell all the business to get off with a whole skin!"

Marston's face grew black, and he shook in his track with rage.

"You coward! You traitor! Who was there to capture you, and wring anything from you? Tell me, before I knock you down!"

Travers pushed back his coat sleeves and held out his wrists. Each was ringed with purplish bands, and swollen. Then he related his experience in detail, and ended by delivering, word for word, the message which Glenning had sent. As Marston listened his rage rose up and choked him.

At the conclusion of the recital he was wild, and moved about thres.h.i.+ng the air with his fists. When he at length came to a standstill his face was the colour of ashes, and he was shaking from the violence of his emotion.

"He said that, did he? The upstart! He'll shoot me, will he? He's going to tell me what to do, and what not to do! I'll attend to him! He'd better have stayed where he came from."

Then, muttering to himself as was his wont when enraged, he wheeled and went towards the house, leaving Travers to look out for himself.

The landlord of the Union House did not tarry long. He had done a thing which yesterday he would not have believed himself capable of doing. Now he went slowly down to the yard gate, wondering at his bravery, got into a wornout road-cart which he had borrowed in town from a country friend, and began his return trip.

When Glenning had dispatched a hasty breakfast he sought the clerk in the hotel office and told him to have his bill ready some time that forenoon. That worthy at once evinced a loquacious interest in the new doctor's affairs, and would fain have inquired his departing guest's plans for the future, but John merely replied that he had no intention of leaving town, and went up to his room. Here he was soon joined by Tom Dillard, who came in wearing the most dejected air possible, tendered a perfunctory good morning to John's hearty greeting, and sank upon the edge of the bed, his round, soft face wofully elongated.

"Sick this morning, Dillard?" queried Glenning, busy with the damaged clothes which still lay on the chair. "I'd as lieve have you for my first patient as anybody."

Dillard sighed, and shook his head dolorously.

"Not exactly sick, and not exactly well," he replied, "but it's precious little sleeping I did last night."

"Indigestion?"

"No; worry."

Glenning, briskly wielding a clothes brush, glanced at Dillard. He was evidently in the depths of despair, and had most likely come for consolation or advice.

"Do you suppose I can help you?" queried John, sympathetically.

"I'm going to tell you about it, anyway, and see what you think. Maybe it looks pretty queer to you that I should come here and make a confidant of you when I hardly know you, but I have all kinds of faith in you, and this matter touches people I like immensely, and I know you'll regard all I say as confidential."

He stopped, and let his fat hands stray vaguely over his knees.

"Certainly I'll keep still, Dillard, and I'll be glad to help you all I can."

"You see it's about the Dudleys. I don't suppose you know it, but they're poor as Job's turkey. All they've got is that house and an acre or two of ground and that horse, and--fifty shares of bank stock. The old man bought this stock when he got too bad off to manage his racers properly--sold them, you see, and invested his money this way, so that he wouldn't have any worry, and it'd bring 'em in just enough to live on. The bank's boomin', doin' the best business it ever has, and has been declaring a five per cent, semi-annual dividend. That's ten per cent, a year on the Major's investment, which means five hundred dollars per annum for him and Miss Julia to live on--nothin' handsome, you see, but it'll keep 'em from gettin' hungry. Now these people are my friends, and I hate to see 'em suffer."

"Well, what's the worry? Is the bank insolvent? You just said it was doing a fine business."

"Best in its history! There's a dividend due the last of this month, but it's not going to be paid!"

Glenning wheeled from where he was bending over his open trunk.

"Why isn't it going to be paid?"

"I'll tell you."

Dillard looked around to see that no doors were open, then leaned forward and spoke in a loud whisper.

"The president of our bank is a Mr. Marston. He's rich as Jersey cream, and he owns the bulk of stock in the inst.i.tution. He hates the Dudleys like snakes, and he never loses a chance to do something that'll hurt 'em. The last meeting of the directors was the one at which the six months' dividend should have been declared. We've earned it all right, and more besides. There's no just reason under the sun why it shouldn't have been paid. The whole board was in favor of it but Marston. They had a warm session. They hold their meetings in a back room at the bank, and while it was a closed meeting, I knew that an argument was in progress, for they were there an hour and a half. But they can't go against Marston's wishes. I learned later that he insisted on buying a new safe for the bank, which costs a pile o' money, and also declared that some improvements had to be made in the bank building. The whole thing was bosh, for we have a good safe, and there are no improvements needed. It was just a well-aimed blow at the Dudleys, but it went through. The new safe and the improvements were ordered to record, and the dividend was pa.s.sed. If that doesn't mean starvation for our friends then I don't know what I'm talkin' about."

Glenning did some quick thinking. Then he came over and sat down by Dillard's side.

"Is this generally known?"

"No; but it will be when our statement is published in the _Herald_ next Friday."

"I feel a warm personal interest in the Dudley's affairs, Dillard, and I thank you for speaking so frankly. You have been open with me, and I will be the same with you, and together we will fight this low scoundrel. Listen. I arrived in your town night before last, a total stranger. Since then I have learned this much. Devil Marston hired an emissary to burn that stable. Yesterday, in that room over there, he and the man who conducts this hotel concocted a scheme whereby Travers should kill the Dudley's colt last night. I overheard them, and went directly to the Dudleys with my story. They had no one to help them, so I volunteered. They consented, and I stood guard last night in the smoke-house where the horse was quartered. Travers came to do the foul deed and I caught him--literally caught him and held him with my hands and made him promise to go to this Marston and tell him that I would kill the next man who came to the Dudleys with mischievous intent."

Dillard looked at the earnest face before him with wide eyes and open mouth. He could scarcely believe the words he heard, though he did not doubt they were true.

"Now," resumed Glenning, firmly, "we at least know our man, and that is something. I do not fear him, but with you it is different. Yet if we confound him in the end I believe that you will have more to do with it than I. Let us speak with perfect candor. You are dependant for your living upon your salary?"

"Yes, there's ma and me. We haven't a thing, and our living comes from my salary at the bank."

"Just so. Then you couldn't afford to openly oppose your president. You would quickly lose your position if you did. We must move very carefully. Does Marston take an active interest in affairs at the bank?

I mean is he familiar with the books, and the accounts--in other words, is he a live president, and not a figure-head merely?"

"He's in every day, poking and prying around. There's nothing goes on that he doesn't know about."

"Does the clerical force like him?"

"He hasn't a friend in the bank, not even the cas.h.i.+er. We all know he's a rascal, but he's so powerful that we're afraid to say a word aloud when he's around."

"What is your position, Dillard?"

"Head bookkeeper."

"Then let me make a suggestion to you. Watch Marston. Watch his every movement. You know the national banking laws. See that he doesn't infringe on them. A man as unscrupulous as he is liable to attempt anything. Watch him. Watch every mark he makes with a pen, and the first time he steps over the line come to me and let me know. Will you do it?"

"I'll do it, doctor, and I don't believe I'll have to wait very long."

Then they sat in silence for a few minutes, each thinking of what the other had said.

Glenning spoke.